Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid: On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd, As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade; I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch-na-Garr. 'Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?' Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale. Round Loch-na-Garr, while the stormy mist gathers, Winter presides in his cold icy car: Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers; They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch-na-Garr. 'Ill-starr'd, though brave, did no visions foreboding Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?' Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden, Victory crown'd not your fall with applause: Still were you happy in death's earthy slumber, You rest with your clans in the caves of Braemar; The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud number, Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch-na-Garr. Years have roll'd on, Loch-na-Garr, since I left you, Years must elapse ere I tread you again: Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. England! thy beauties are tame and domestic To one who has roved o'er the mountains afar: O for the crags that are wild and majestic! The steep frowning glories of dark Loch-na-Garr!" In _Oscar of Alva_ will also be found something of popular superstition. Passing over a part of the tale, Byron says:-- "From high Southannon's distant tower Arrived a young and noble dame; With Kenneth's lands to form her dower, Glenalvon's blue-eyed daughter came. And Oscar claimed the beauteous bride, And Angus on his Oscar smiled; It soothed the father's feudal pride Thus to obtain Glenalvon's child. Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note! Hark to the swelling nuptial song! In joyous strains the voices float, And still the choral peal prolong. * * * * * But where is Oscar? Sure 'tis late: Is this a bridegroom's ardent flame? While thronging guests and ladies wait Nor Oscar nor his brother came. At length young Allan join'd the bride; 'Why comes not Oscar?' Angus said: 'Is he not here?' the youth replied; 'With me he roved not o'er the glade.' * * * * * 'O search, ye chiefs! O search around! Allan, with these through Alva fly; Till Oscar, till my son is found, Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply.'